


Learning Day

by Waddler



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Dystopian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-07 03:01:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18229028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waddler/pseuds/Waddler





	Learning Day

A man clad in a navy business suit stands at a podium at the front of a giant crowd of parents all holding infants and teengers above 18. The man’s face is displayed on a monitor the size of a large house behind him, showing his wrinkled and tired features and his balding head with a poorly done comb over. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we would like to thank you all for joining us here for this year’s annual send off of the younger generation to the learning facilities and the return of those who have been sent away seventeen years ago.”

A sob rings out in the crowd, followed by a gunshot. A body of a woman holding an infant hits the ground and a child cries, followed by another, then another then there’s a sea of panicked parents trying to calm their crying children. There are shouts of horror, each met with a gun until none are left to cry out in terror. A grief stricken father picks the first child to cry off of the ground with horribly shaking hands and soothes it. The announcer is silent and waits for the noise to die down, and for there to be no crying of gunshots. 

“On this joyous occasion, we gather here to give the children of today off to the government to become the citizens of tomorrow. Please, as I call your names, come up, and hand over your child to be sent off to the designated facility to be cared for and raised by trained caregivers.”

People shuffle silently to their spots and are called up alphabetically to hand over their children from the age of one to two. There's no more sobbing, no more screaming, no more yells or words spoken, only silent tears streaming down the faces of parents as their children are handed off to unknown government agents in suits to be taken away until they’re eighteen. The sorting and taking takes hours. Nobody dares step out of line. Their only goal is to keep the children from crying. 

As all the children are taken away, another line is set up where families are reunited with their eighteen year olds. Tensions are high. Nobody knows what to expect. It’s hard to really know what to expect when you meet your parents who you haven’t seen since before you could make coherent memories. You wait in anticipation for your name, or rather your assigned number to be called. 189562, 189563, 189564,  **189565** . Despite expecting it, it comes as a shock. You stumble shakily up to the podium. A woman, a man, and a twenty year old greet you. The man and woman, no, your  _ parents  _ greet you and pull you into a hug.You don’t know them and awkwardly hug them back. 

The hug ends after being held for a beat too long and you’re all lead off stage by a man in a suit and back to a bus that’s designed to take you to your house along with the others with corresponding numbers. The wait is short for the rest of the group of ten numbers to be called to the podium and sent back to the bus. You all cram in. It’s not comfortable and you’re stuck trapped between your brother and your parents. Your bus stops in front of a row of houses and you get out and are led to your house by your parents. 

The house is grey and white. All the houses are grey and white. All the houses are cookie cutter and exactly the same. You step through the white door into the modern interior with white, black, and grey furniture. It’s… nice, is what you tell yourself. It’s nice. This is home. This is your home. 

There's a noise. A loud bark. Suddenly a pitch black lab that matches the house’s aesthetic is on you. It likes you. It’s licking you. It’s welcoming you. This really is your home, and this is now your dog. 

“That’s Barnabas.” Your brother’s voice startles you. You tense and nod. The dog whimpers. It doesn’t like you tense. You pet it but it backs away. You hesitate to enter the house fully, but are ushered in my your parents. You’re told to sit. You do. You’re offered food and drink, but you aren’t hungry. On the contrary, you feel queasy and nauseous. You might puke. They look worried. Your brother has a look of sympathy. He’s been through this. 

“You should eat. It’ll make you feel better.” You don’t feel like eating but nod. He heads to what must be the kitchen to get you food. You wait and the lab jumps in your lap. It curls up. You admit to yourself it’s cute. He’s cute, you remind yourself. Your dog is cute. You say it outloud and your mother smiles. You don’t like how easily you called the woman your mother, but it’s starting to feel right. 

“We call him Barney.” 

“Barney… that’s a cute name.” You like the name. You like Barney. You like home. And you really like the smell of the hot pockets that your brother is carrying in. You like it here.


End file.
